


"I'm Starting to Love Sand" - Kylo Ren, ironically

by maenad9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bendemption, Does Anyone Know What Conditioner Adam Driver Uses?, F/M, Fix-It, Force Bond (Star Wars), Fuck You JJ, I hate sand, Leia lives, Now That's What I Call Pod-Racing!, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reylo - Freeform, The Author Would Like To Apologize For All The Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maenad9/pseuds/maenad9
Summary: I'm so, so sorry. This VERY long sex scene just... happened. I don't even know. Hoping to publish a more plot-oriented, fix-it eventually. JJ/Disney screwed us all, and we all deserve better. Starting with sex, I guess. Politics later?Rey and Ben (A Couple) have a two-second argument about the state of his sweater while on Tatooine, and Ben decides to seduce Rey into forgetting all about it. She's on board with this, ofc. There is oral, there is a midi-chlorians joke (couldn't help myself), there is cuddling, there is healing, there is a binary sunset that we are too busy reading about fucking to see but I'm sure it was beautiful!, there is SAND. *smirks @ ani's force ghost*This is erotica that references how irritating sand can be when you're trying to have sex in the desert, but doesn't actually take that seriously. Also, the wet stabbing and hol(e)y sweater (get it? he looks GREAT in a boatneck. who knew!) are scavenged for canon. The end is my favorite bit.Apologies for length, again, and any inconsistencies-- I'm not a linear writer, and this isn't edited.CW: erotic asphyx ("At her mental prompt" to "At the same time...")HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE BUT ABRAMS!
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 120





	"I'm Starting to Love Sand" - Kylo Ren, ironically

Rey reached out a hand, beckoning. “Let me fix it.” When her words were met with silence, and an unwavering stare, she sighed and stretched her arm further towards him. “You have to let me fix that hole, Ben. Either I patch it, or I take it to thrift when you’re not looking.”

He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, and let his eyes trail leisurely over her body. “But I’m alway looking.”

Rey blushed beneath her desert tan and folded her arms tightly across her chest— as though his attention were unwanted, sand stuck in her saber’s control panel. It wasn’t, though, and from the answering flicker in his coal-dark eyes, she knew that he knew, too. Blasted force bond…

Rey regularly complained to Leia, and anyone else that would listen, that she’d win every argument between them— if only they weren’t connected by an unbreakable flow of reciprocal, mystical energy, whose primary consequence just happened to be profound emotional honesty. Ben’s mother usually smiled, and sagely reminded the younger woman that force-sensitivity wasn’t a pre-requisite for intimacy.

 _No,_ Rey’d reply caustically, rolling her eyes, _but it does make domestic bliss_ just a bit _more difficult._ Despite the fact that they were discussing her son, Leia would level Rey with the same knowing look whenever she said something along those lines. All users, even those whose partners were practically insensitive to it themselves, knew that force sensitivity more than made up for its occasional, petty inconvenience… But Leia had never needed to spell _that_ one out for Rey, whose recent …training… had only further convinced her of the necessity of formally abolishing the ancient Jedi mandate of celibacy. There was a logical argument for her petition (in-progress), too, quite lengthy and supported by all sorts of testimonies and statistics— she just couldn’t remember a word of it when Ben stepped within two feet of her, or fixed her with one of his smoldering stares.

He was doing both, at the moment, and Rey found herself likewise forgetting why they were arguing, or what even about. Unconsciously, she let her crossed arms relax a little and began to breathe more deeply, taking in Ben’s faint, compelling scent: sweat, singed fuses, and an erotic mingling of smoke and spice— her lover smelled of the Chinar tree, reduced to near extinction with the destruction of his other ancestral planet, Alderaan, but saved by seed farms on Coruscant whose young forests Ben wandered whenever he could. Rey’s shoulders relaxed, and arousal pricked her bare skin.

Ben’s lips curved slightly at the corners, betraying his appreciation for the way her altered posture accentuated her figure. “Besides,” he murmured, knowing full well that he was going to win this one, as Rey was too weak to withstand her attraction to him after his recent absence— not even for a second, much less long enough to best him in either logic or willpower. He let the word linger in the arid air…

Acknowledging the same, Rey silently wondered how she’d survived the several years they’d spent at violent odds, as _arch-nemeses_ , when even their fights turned her on. It had never been black and white between them, not even at the height the war…

“I like it this way,” Ben finally continued, his tone casual. “It reminds me of the time my wife stabbed me clean through the ribcage even though I was unarmed, facing away from her, _and_ on the verge of surrender.”

Rey cringed, unresolved guilt smothering the erotic tension that had been taking root between them. “You know I wasn’t myself when I did that,” she half-whispered, letting her arms fall, and started to turn away. Her voice broke, choked with urgency and thick with grief for his suffering, however brief. “It was Pal—”

Mercifully, Ben cut her off. His voice was rich, resonant; his straightforward way of speaking soothed her. He had switched the second he sensed her distress— a miscalculation on his part, to joke about that battle— and now his tone was blunt but gentle, the familiar combination a balm to Rey’s stricken soul. “It was Palpatine,” he said softly, finishing her sentence— sparing her the shame. “I know.” He studied her face for a moment. Rey waited, listening to his measured breathing. The man always had more to say.

“We need to talk about what happened on the wreckage, Rey. Maybe at our next appointment.” Ben was referring to their mind-healer, who helped them face the horrors of their pasts. Every three days, they trekked to this woman’s crystal-lit cave, situated conveniently in a sheltered outcrop— part of the old pod-racing track. (Reluctantly, because he hated it when she engaged in such reckless activities, Ben had helped Rey plot and construct a new, better one for when she competed— and won, every time.)

After a shame-filled beat, Rey sighed in reluctant resignation. “You’re right,” she whispered. Ben wasn’t the only one with a cracked kyber in this relationship…

He caught her eye and nodded reassuringly. “But we definitely don’t have to talk about it right now…” And just like that, his concern and quiet gravity were replaced with something more mischievous.

“Oh?” Rey picked up on the shift in mood, ready to return to her initial grievance. “Would you rather talk about how you refuse to let me fix that thing?” She gestured towards the hole, brow arched.

“That’s the thing… I don’t think you want to fix my shirt at all,” Ben mused, his voice provocatively low-pitched. Rey’s lips parted in confusion. “I think you want to hang it on the wall above our bed— it is, after all, a memento of the only time you’ve ever bested me in combat. A prize fit for a prince’s consort.”

Rey was unaccustomed to his acknowledging his lineage, and rightful title— the shock must have shown on her face, because his eyes glittered with amusement. Still, Ben managed a straight face. Her brief but intense surge of self-loathing and guilt started to subside, like waves against the rusted sides of an imperial wreck. Ben tended to have that effect on her; he dispelled her darkness, just as she did his.

Rey snorted at his assertion. “Honestly, that’s absurd,” she countered, now all confidence. ”I’ve won every single time we’ve fought, and even when it was a draw…” she made a face, “I would’ve beat you all those times, too, were it not for the near-constant, world-about-to-end interruptions.” Rey decided to be kind and concede a single battle— if you could call it that. “Except at Takodana— which we already agreed doesn’t count because I only had a blaster, and you had a battalion! Besides which, I was completely untrained and unaware of my abilities.” After a moment she added, “Also, you look more nerf-herder than prince in that shirt, with a hole the size of a starblossom, so I’m really not sure you should be claiming titles at the moment.”

Ben shrugged. The slight gesture radiated a kind of laid-back arrogance, a self-confident nonchalance that she still wasn’t used to, not coming from him. It was… _hot_. That was for sure. Such a small thing, yet when she first witnessed it on Exegol she’d found the mannerism shockingly sexy— dangerously so, given that it distracted her for a solid three seconds in the middle of the fight of the millennium!

But nothing had changed since that night— not in terms of her body’s response to his. Rey bit her lip, twining her fingers in the folds of cloth that swung slightly from her hip. Ben took one long step closer, crowding her with his height and broad physique until her heart beat twice as fast as resting. She wondered if he could feel her arousal through the dyad. _Of course he could_ , she answered her own question in an instant. Ben didn’t need their bond to sense her rising heat, however. He’d always had a knack for knowing what she needed, and when. Wasn’t he always telling as much?

“Of course, you’re the expert, Rey.” Ben’s voice curled around her name, comforting and seductive, playful yet possessive. She barely suppressed a shiver. “But it’s the only reason I can come up with— unless you have an _ulterior_ motive for wanting me to remove my clothing in the middle of the desert…”

Ben paused, and Rey heard the change in his breathing. He wanted her, as badly as she wanted him. After a heavy moment, Ben continued, painting a gloriously suggestive picture of their evening. Rey might have stopped him with a kiss, let him know that this seduction was unnecessary, but she enjoyed his efforts and she knew from experience that he reveled in this kind of verbal foreplay— besides, she was still wrestling with the pretense of domesticity. Let him coax her a little longer.

“Just the two of us and the setting suns. No one to hear or see anything for miles in every direction, nothing to stop us from doing what we want— _whatever_ we want… To one another— _with_ one another…”

Ben’s rich baritone vibrated across the half-foot of dry air that separated their two bodies. Inches— he was only inches away from her now… Rey could reach out and touch him, just by bending her arm.

“P-patching!” She gasped, breaking eye contact after a long, hot second of his stare. “I have to patch that hole in your sweater before it gets any worse.” Rey tried not to stare at the bare skin she could see through said hole, the hint of muscle rippling.

Ben smirked at her flustered response— she was probably blushing red as a Sith saber by now. His apparent composure baffled her. “We both know you have no intentions of doing my mending tonight, not when I’m as capable of it as you, and less bored by the activity.”

Rey had to concede on those points, each equally true… In a last ditch attempt, she tried to remember her initial argument, which she’d felt so sure of, only minutes earlier!

“Besides, there’s no daylight left for you to darn in— but there _is_ a binary sunset for us to watch.”

As if they’d actually watch it, judging by the intensity of the urges she could feel thrumming along their connection. Happily, Rey resigned herself to Ben’s being right— about both the light and her desires. She didn’t have any intention of sitting down with a needle and thread, especially not now that he was looming over her with that look— _that_ look— on his face. She sighed, a sign of acceptance not reluctance, and his plush lips parted slightly in response.

Ben wasn’t so unaffected as he’d been pretending, these past minutes. Rey felt warmth rising, his mingling with hers. Arousal uncoiled deep within her, responding to his words, his proximity, his feelings as projected through the force. _Finally_ , her body seemed to whisper as she gave into the cravings. Rey swayed closer to Ben, not a conscious movement, but a kind of compulsion. She needed this far more than mending. She needed _him._

Ben held out a hand, and Rey took it without hesitation. Immediately, he tugged her smoothly across the sand towards him, until the gap was gone and their chests skimmed in contact. Rey trembled with desire, willing herself closer still. But before she could act on that desire, Ben stopped everything to search her eyes for the _yes_ that was still making its way to her stunned mouth.

She’d always struggled to form words when he was this close to her. Her body craved his, but not as much as the life force within her craved contact, completion, with the force within him. They were a dyad, and that meant that on some level, at all times, she would want him. Need him— profoundly. Mostly, Rey could compartmentalize the cravings, but not when Ben was so close and so obviously aroused… Damn midi-chlorians, worse than hormones. She’d like to have a word with whatever god was responsible for them… 

Ben sensed her speechless desperation— as well as her clear, unquestioning consent— through their force bond. Satisfied with this confirmation, he crushed her body to his. Feeling the same desire course through his body, communicate itself through their connection, Rey took his mouth with all the savagery of the wild animals she’d grown up among, in the rockier deserts of Jakku. They two were like creatures of night, bright-eyed and starving. Ben’s hair was lush and thick beneath Rey’s weaving fingers. Her teeth grazed his plump lower lip, and he growled with pleasure as she drew forth a droplet in her unquenchable desire. Both of them beasts, Rey mused, kissing closed the tiny wound.

Restless against her ministrations, Ben swept Rey into the crushing cradle of his arms and stalked in the direction of some dunes— not that privacy was an issue, on a Tatooine homestead like theirs… Still, Rey thanked the force for Ben’s preternatural sensory awareness, which was beyond even her abilities. It meant that they didn’t have to stop kissing— she never had to lose his lips, his tongue, his spice-sweet breath— not even if they were to repeat the journey, on terrain far rougher than this. It certainly came in hand when they did this in more public venues…

After several brisk strides, Ben set Rey gently on the ground. Thanks to his long, muscular legs, they’d traveled a fair distance from where they’d first stood arguing in the sand. They broke apart for a moment to catch their breaths, chests heaving. Rey stumbled slightly, having lost her footing, but Ben caught her in an instant, snaking one long arm around her waist so that she neither fell back nor far from him. She was only ever this clumsy when he was in her space.

“I need—” Rey began breathlessly, reaching for the line of his jaw to draw him closer.

“I know what you need,” he interrupted in that controlling Kylo way that sometimes pissed her off, but always turned her on— oh, Rey _had_ a dark side, and in more ways than one… But that was for another night.

Ben grasped the back of his collar in one hand and pulled the sweater that started it all over his head in one smooth motion, finally giving in to Rey’s earlier request— as well as giving her an unparalleled view of his broad, muscular chest. He was thicker than an Endor elm; his abs were harder than wood, but smoother than bark to touch. Smooth, and polished with a faint sheen of desert-induced sweat… Rey’s fingers skimmed his newly tanned skin, reveling in the way it tightenedbeneath her touch as he turned to toss the offending garment away, rather than relinquish it into her care. She’d forgotten about all that mending business, was far more interested in the shirtless man before her.

Ben’s hands came for Rey next, fingertips tracing the flow of her makeshift bodice. When he found the knot tucked under the sash that wrapped around her ribs, he tugged the right strand so that the fabric loosened of its own accord and began to unwind from her chest. Disappointingly, it stopped after a single circuit. Ben eyed Rey’s breasts, now visibly straining to be fully free of their bindings. After a lazy moment of spent appreciating the pale flesh that had managed to spill out over the restrictive bandages, Ben’s lusty gaze met Rey’s. Gently, he pulled on one side of her ribs with the hand cupped around them— not to move Rey closer, but in wordless communication. Understanding this unspoken request, Rey giggled and raised her hands above her head. She started to spin, faster and faster. Ben raised his free hand to hold hers, steadying Rey as she continued to twirl on the sand. The other darted out to catch the cloth in question, and with a slight pull it began to unravel properly. Rey laughed outright, her eyes shut and her mouth open in a carefree grin that Ben couldn’t help but match— when at last her makeshift bodice was gone, and he tugged her close, setting her spins to in an abrupt stop.

Ben smiled indulgently, watching Rey’s dizziness abate. She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a sweet kiss over his curved lips. As her nipples skimmed his chest, Ben’s expression grew serious— intent and eager for more than a desert pirouette. Rey’s own emotions followed suit, and her newly freed flesh was as sensitive as a live wire to his skin contact. Their shared desire— the core-deep and defining craving of one dyadic half for its mate, the existential gravity that pulled each person to the other, this profound amorphous power that was neither entirely apart or a part of them— was growing impatient at their antics, as were they. The force had little more time for foreplay, tonight.

Ben’s eyes were lit from within with a hunger that Rey could feel reaching for her through their bond, too. Or maybe that was Rey, maybe she was the starving one, hungering for him. Individuality didn’t really matter, not when they were so very close to being joined. Not when they already _were_ one, in spirit and shared force. But the physical reflection of their force connection…

Rey gasped into Ben’s open kiss, her exposed nipples pebbling against his pecs. Ben flexed, not above showing off for his lover, and caught her even closer to him so that her breasts were crushed happily against his skin. They sank to the ground together, scrambling for their discarded clothing to shield them from the sand. Ben, never having spent this much time on a sand-planet before, had learned about its abrasive qualities the hard way— tonight, irritation would not get put a damper on their post-coital pleasure.

Rey shifted once they were settled, clambering onto his lap. She clasped the nape of his neck with one hand, fingers splayed, woven through his jet hair. Her other arm encircled his broad torso, giving her a secure grip of his shoulder and allowing her to settle comfortably— with fleeting stability— above the apex of his thighs. Rey closed her eyes, rolling her hips so that her damp core traced the hard protrusion between his wide-stretched legs.

“Fuuuck,” Ben groaned as she wriggled her warmth against his head. She wondered if he could feel her desperation through the layers that still separated them. Probably, and if not— well, there was always the force.

“Fuck _me_.” She corrected him, pulling away from his neck, which she’d been nuzzling, to stare deep into his dark eyes. They were glazing over, his lashes fluttering shut for a second whenever she rocked over the tip of him. “Fuck me, Ben Solo.” She raised her voice and her body until she had his full attention. “Make me yours.”

Her words had a goading effect. He flipped her onto her back, the sand and his worn sweater cushioning the otherwise harsh motion. “You _are_ mine.” He kissed her, hard. “You always have been.”

Ben bit her then, nipped the tender swell of her slight breast. He made his way down until he met fabric, which he shucked from her legs with impressive alacrity. Rey gazed up at the suns, soon to set, and swore with pleasure. Before she had time to repeat her request, Ben had set about performing all kinds of wicked tricks on her inner thighs— she sucked in the dry air, squirming with pleasure— and soaked center.

“Yes,” she exhaled, her eyes wide as the first sun when his tongue delved deep, slipping between her swollen labia. “Yes,” she repeated when his fingers joined his mouth, spreading her wide as he plundered for treasure. Death Stars and desert planets, he was good. Calves tight, knees drawn, her clitoris more than just “found”— as so often others had complained about their own lovers’ attentions below belt.

 _How the hell was he so good, when he’d been a virgin until approximately five minutes after they’d boarded the Falcon?_ She thought, when she next had a moment to think. (It was hard to find the time or capacity, when Ben had his mouth on you.) _Because I imagined this, a thousand times, in the privacy of my quarters. Every time we connected, I craved you. Afterwards…_ Rey blushed, as though she hadn’t pleasured herself to his force-memory, too. _And because I can feel your pleasure, as if its my own— I can sense everything you want, need, feel, through the bond,_ came Ben’s complete and surprisingly coherent answer, considering that he didn’t stop caressing her with his lips and tongues and fingertips.

His rhythm, and her body’s in response, never faltered— not even as his words flowed through their mental link. Adjusting the angle of his head, Ben went for the spot just inside and above, where her sleek walls grew rough and the nerve endings bundled and buzzed. Rey writhed, threatening to break free of his grip as the pleasure became unbearable. Ben snaked one hand up her body, while his other still worked two fingers inside her. He slid under and between her bare breasts, splayed along her sternum, and traced her prominent clavicle— all the while exerting an even pressure, light enough to be comfortable but firm enough to keep her on the ground while he finished his work, and she finished her climax.

At her mental prompt, he stretched his arm a little higher and closed his fingers around her throat. Ben applied just the right amount of force, literal and mystical, in just the right places. Asphyxiation aroused Rey beyond anything, especially as she neared her end. She hadn’t explained it to Ben yet, but he did wonder whether this kink had something to do with his past— Rey had always been drawn to the Sith in him, the twisted shadows that had first found and fed on her light. Ben shook the thought from his mind and focused on his lover’s body— she was close, ever so close. All he needed to do was pick up the pace of his strokes, just a touch, and…

Rey’s throat worked against Ben’s fingers, and he felt her cry more than he heard it. The only vocalization she could manage was a keening outburst, as his ministrations lit up the darkness behind her clenched eyelids with new, explosive galaxies of light. She gasped his name through the force, struggling to utter the single syllable aloud in such an intense pleasure’s aftermath. Pleased with himself, and appreciative of Rey’s physical reaction to orgasm, Ben grinned and slid his hand from her throat to her breast, trailing his fingers in delicate circles around the sensitive peak. At the same time, he ran his teeth over the honed musculature of her upper thigh, waiting patiently for her pleasure to subside enough for him to join her.

“Gods,” she gasped at last, reaching blindly for his cheek and finding his lips instead. Rey thumbed his lush lips, damp with her release. “I love you.”

Gently, he bit her index finger, holding it for a second, before letting go to trail kisses back up her chest. He slowed, in the valley between her breasts, making momentary detours to swirl his clever tongue around her nut-brown nipples— hard, aching as they were. Finally he whispered back, in a shockingly humble tone, “I know.”

Rey shook her head at his inherited arrogance, and wondered, vaguely, if he knew because of their bond, alone. _Observation. Communication. Trust, too— and it’s not like that was our first time._ He paused, mentally and physically, and looked pensive for a moment. Before she could ask, he raised himself until they were eye-to-eye, and kissed her deeply. At the same time, he spoke through the bond: _And love. I don’t know if there’s a difference in the end. Everything is interwoven, and the force is that cumulative fabric. But my love for you, and yours for me, is a true tell for your pleasure._

Rey moaned her agreement, making knots of his hair with her hand. “Ben,” she murmured, pulling back to meet his wide-eyed, hungry stare. _“_ I want more.”

He considered this with a curve of his lips. She traced the rim of his ear, as he asked in amusement, “Here?”

Rey didn’t answer, because Ben knew the answer. It was obvious in the way their limbs were laced together, tight; in the way she’d cried her release to the open desert air, showing neither shame nor restraint, not two minutes earlier. She very clearly wanted Ben to take her, there under the binary sunset, among the low dunes of his ancestral planet. But it never hurt to ask again.

“You want me to take you, out here in the open.” He stated it so simply, nipping her jaw in a primal, barely-held-in sort of affection, and looked to her eyes for confirmation.

 _Yes_ , she answered through the bond.

Immediately, he pulled away, betraying his impatience. Rey had never been as good at self-restraint as Ben. But she’d also never had his appetite, all-consuming once unleashed… She started to sit up, raised a hand to help him, but found her movements futile. In a blink, he had rolled off of Rey and rid himself of the loose trousers he wore for practice and physical chores. Ben was propped up on one elbow beside her, having bared himself to the sand and sky. Rey took a moment to run her gaze along his figure, taking in all the raw strength, the untamed beauty on display. He stroked himself slowly in anticipation as she looked.

The sight sent a pang of something like hunger through Rey, prompting her to reach down and spread her own pleasure all over her fingers and palm. Then she took Ben’s cock from him, wordlessly, and made him as wet there as she was. Kissing his clavicle, then teasing, with tongue and teeth, the side of his neck and lobe of his ear, Rey made sure Ben was ready. His hard length had been rigid before she’d touched it, but now it strained upward against her hand. Rey smothered a laugh, amused by the occasional involuntary twitch. Still, she wasn’t quite satisfied. She licked her other palm before bringing it low, to where their bodies almost met. He’d managed to move closer in the moment she’d paused her ministrations.

Rey spread her saliva across the length and leaking head of his cock. Ben shivered, grasping at the sand. She enclosed the swollen tip in her cupped hand, rubbed the heel of her palm against the sensitive slit, encircled the velvety skin of his shaft and then squeezed, lightly at first and then merciless, drawing her fingers higher as she tightened her grip. Ben moaned into her shoulder, where his head had fallen moments before. Long, silky hair teased her erogenous zones there, as he burrowed deep of the curve of her neck. His body arced toward hers, trembled under her touch.

“Please!” It was his turn to beg, primed to pump as he was. Ben’s voice, needy and breathless, sent shivers across her own skin, and radiated deep into her flesh. He lifted his head and stared, desperate and wide, into her eyes, heavy-lidded with power and pleasure. Ben needed her body, now— Rey could feel the urgency of his arousal in the throbbing of his member, which she now held tight in both hands. Moreover, the bond between them was letting off psychic sparks. And besides, Rey needed Ben, too. She always needed him— he was her best friend and the other half of her soul, her force-mate and dyadic lover— but right now she _needed_ him. Inside her: hard and hot, deep and luxurious, heavy and sweaty and messy as the sand beneath their bodies. Rey needed Ben to fill her, fast. She couldn’t stand this craving any longer; their union should be physical as well as mental, since it was as fundamental as the oxygen she currently struggled to take in.

“Yes,” she whispered in answer, as she stretched herself open with one hand and guided him to her entrance with the other. Fuck, he felt good, just slipping along her seam. _But he’d be better inside of her, where he belonged…_ She wasn’t sure whether the thought was his or hers, but Rey knew that they were in agreement either way.

Ben raised himself above Rey and planted one scarred knee on the other side of her. He took back control of his movements with one hand, planting the other in the sand beside her head. Rey couldn’t resist the urge to lift herself up and kiss the beautiful curve of muscle along his tricep, if only for a second. Ben responding by kissing her mouth the moment she drew back, probing with his tongue even as he pushed into her below. Rey moaned in abandon as she felt Ben slide, thick and hard, past the first few, extra sensitive inches of her passage. He knew her body well, however, and took his time— rubbing back and forth, twisting the way he knew she loved. Her nerves lit up, and her muscles clamped around him— forcing him to push harder, if he wanted to go deeper. And he did. They both did.

Rey loved the sensation of that first penetration, the resistance and tightness and sudden, fulfilling fullness when he finally hit home inside of her. For a second, he simply rested, staring down at her with an expression of sheer devotion, and sensual devastation. As they both became accustomed to each other’s bodies once more, Rey wondered briefly, and with some amusement, which he wielded better— a lightsaber, or his own dick. Her musings were interrupted when Ben began to tease her with deliberately short and gentle thrusts. The friction was fucking incredible, but unbearable. Rey clutched at Ben’s muscular back, pulling him down until their torsos were tight together. He was sweating now, as was she, under the setting desert suns.

 _Ben_ , she begged him silently.

 _What is it you want_? He answered her in kind— somehow sultry, low, and seductive even in her mind. He nuzzled her temple, then dropped kisses on her cheek. Not once did he let up the exquisite torment of slow, slight thrusts that didn’t take him any deeper yet seemed to cause ripples throughout all of her. Rey tensed around him, desperation and sensation overwhelming her.

“I want,” she gasped, incoherent. “I _need_ —”

Sidestepping her inarticulation, Ben felt for her in the force and nodded. “I know what you need,” he repeated— the well-worn phrase becoming his sex mantra, it seemed. He dropped his voice to a low growl. “And I’m going to give you _just_ what you _need_.”

Ben pulled out of her mid-sentence, leaving just his tip nestled between her labia— only to slam back inside of her, without warning, on the last word. He was the opposite of gentle and teasing: hard, strong, forceful. She felt like they were dueling once more, and started to move with him, around him, affording him greater access to her body by bending her knees and lifting herself ever so slightly from the fabric that separated them from the sand.

The sweater was already drenched from their activities, she noted wryly, and would need washing as well as mending in the morning. Before she could reflect further, Ben responded to her change of position by differing his thrusts, alternating speed and angle to better explore her body— and avidly pursue her pleasure, once more. Rey keened, cried, moaned and groaned as Ben growled, swore, and let out guttural noises of need and dominance over her. 

_Not so fast, Ren._ Rey flipped them using the leg that she had wrapped around his buttocks to turn his body over in a blink of an eye. Catching on immediately, Ben let his glossy mane fall back against the sand, lowering himself into a more comfortable position beneath her. Rey moved slowly at first, to make sure they were still in sync— when weren’t they?— before rolling her hips hard and fast, in a rhythm as unforgiving as it was thrilling. Ben groaned, arching up to meet her every time their bodies connected completely. She raised herself high before a plunge and Ben reached for her waist to stabilize her, not that she needed any help, given the strength of her core. Rey put his hands to better use, bringing one up to massage her pert breasts, and moving the other to her ass so that he could adjust her angle. Ben squeezed the tight muscle there appreciatively; she moaned, moving faster in answer.

Rey moved against her lover like lightning, the higher ground giving her the depth she needed on each of his echoing thrusts. Ben found that spot, far inside her, and pushed upwards, hitting it every time. Her arms shook with the intensity of her pleasure, one giving way so that she collapsed partially onto Ben. He was trembling, withholding his own release until she was close— Rey was sure of it. And she was close. Ben flipped Rey before her other arm gave out, too. _Fuck_. He drilled into her, his strokes long and smooth— until he couldn’t control his body anymore, and each thrust came shorter, harder, making up in forcefulness what they lacked finesse. Their bodies were close, and the air was hot between them. Rey flexed around him, one long leg raised high in the air and shaking in spasm, one arm thrown freely above her head, grasping for purchase and finding sand instead. She gasped as Ben filled her again, his hard length almost too much for her to take. If Rey didn’t come soon, she was sure she would die. Their shared ecstasy built higher and higher. The force bond to threw off visible sparks—

“Take my hand!” Rey cried, the callback unintentional.

Ben grinned, toothy and beautiful, even as he gasped for breath. “Always.”

His fingers found hers in the sand, closing around them as they clutched each other for support and connection, squeezing occasionally with emotion or at the overwhelming sensation. Together, they buried their interwoven fists in the sand, which was cooling with the coming of the night. The force of their passion drove them into the ground. Ben leaned down until his forehead pressed against Rey’s, staring deep into her eyes and he drove home, hard, and brought them to a twin climax— amplified by their bond. Rey cried out, calling his name, his real name, calling on the suns in the sky, calling on the force that flooded them with light and strength and power, even as they shared this peak physical sensation.

Gasping for air, and at the intensity of their connection, Ben emptied himself into his force-made. The air around them shimmered with energy, but he couldn’t see it for all that he was staring at the woman below him. Her face contorted in ecstasy, sweat beading at her temples, teeth bared as though she were a wild animal— but wild animals didn’t know love like theirs. Ben grunted, pressing his lips to the bronzed skin of her brow as his thrusts slowed, and he came jerking to a bone-weary halt. The last shudders of his ejaculation left him; he twitched once, twice, inside of Rey and then came to rest, lowering himself carefully to the sand beside her. He hadn’t pulled out, and she mirrored his movements as if intent on keeping him inside her as long as she could. Now that the blinding surge of energy subsided, that brilliant moment in which their physical forms were the only thing keeping them from merging into a single force-sensitive self, Rey wanted to keep him as close as possible. Refused to let their intertwined energies dissipate entirely.

 _Ben_ , she whispered through the crackling bond, sending shivers down his body. _Hold me_. Her bright eyes fluttered open and she glanced up at him briefly as she made the request, before burrowing deep into his arms. Ben folded himself around Rey, tangled their naked limbs together— rough with sand and sweat, but he didn’t mind his calves’ abrasion. Shifting further, he pulled Rey up onto his chest, cradling her over his heart. She still trembled with the force, and the force of their exertion. A tremor went through his own form, as she traced the place where there should be a scar, where she’d stabbed him once and then healed him whole again, then tucked her hands under the sides of his torso.

Idly, Ben toyed with the damp strands at the base of Rey’s neck— her signature stacked buns had not survived their encounter, and he smiled as he threaded his fingers through her fine hair. As one, their breathing slowed. Together, their equilibrium returned. It almost hurt, to be so close to another person— to share your body, with someone who already shared your soul. But if it was pain, it was exquisite in its intensity, a beauty that was both new to the galaxy and old— a millennia, they’d be told, since anyone shared a bond like theirs. Ben sent silent thanks to the force for bringing him to her, for forging their broken pasts into one clear, solid future.Rey, meanwhile pressed her lips to his chest and inhaled deeply, before sliding off of his torso and nestling into the crook of his arm. He could sense her emotions, hear her mind dancing with thought and feeling...

This man, this god, this other half of her soul. He could win in a fight, ten-to-one with the best warriors. He could climb rock pits while severely injured. He could beat her— and he could be beaten by her. He could save her life, even as she saved his. And together, they could bring not just peace, but _pleasure_ to the galaxy. Such deep, sating pleasure. Sex with Ben touched Rey’s soul. Fed their force bond, strengthened their connection— on every level, physical, mental, spiritual. The Jedi would be dissolved, and with them their monk-like ways, Rey mused without animosity. This was a better path, a better future for her, than their binary old ways. And more importantly— because he mattered more to Rey than her living, breathing self— this was a better future for Ben.

They would be happy, she realized deep in her soul. They would grow old together, righting the world’s wrongs and loving one another until their hearts were full to the brim— and then they’d sit back, watch the cup of their joy overflow into infinity. Ben and Rey, Rey and Ben, together at last and again. They were limitless, and not just because of some freak of nature dyad power. But because of their love. And their fucking, frankly! Because it was _good_.

A smirk from Ben, as he caught Rey closer to his bare chest, told her that he had felt her resolutions, had come to the same realizations, even as they lay unspeaking and exhausted amid the dunes.

**Ten minutes later, Rey sat up with the speed of a blaster.**

“I know,” Ben murmured, raising himself onto his elbow to inspect their tangled legs. “I’m starting to hate sand, too.”

She just stared at him, with something akin to outrage in her expression. But a feeling that better resembled excitement flooded their force connection.

“Did you just call me your _wife_?!”

Ben looked up from the fine grains he was busy brushing off her thigh. He tucked a wavy, jet-black lock behind his right ear, and then his whole face lit up with that big, dumb, toothy grin of his. The one she’d first seen when he brought her back from death. When she’d kissed him hard in the darkness, and he’d held her close.

“About an hour ago. Why? Did you like how it sounded?” His voice was guileless, yet somehow wicked at the same time. “Because I did.”

Ben’s smile took Rey’s breath away, just as it had that fateful day.

**Author's Note:**

> The writing is not my best, got tired of editing probably when his dick came out, sorry if I lost ya there-- or if it was just TOO LONG. The ending is my favorite, as I said. I may have gotten tired of writing near-sex and that may have shown?
> 
> DO NOT HAVE SEX IN THE SAND, KIDS. IT'S TERRIBLE AND A LITTLE DANGEROUS.
> 
> (Oh! And if you want to try erotic asphyxiation, which only occurs briefly and in no great (educational) detail here, please do your research (aka, read about it outside of a fic) because there is a safe way and and a very very unsafe way to do it (not die). And pick a partner you trust. You're after la petite mort, not the real thing.)


End file.
